


The Optimistic Odyssey

by shipcestuous (x4ashes4ashes)



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, Canon Compliant, F/M, Future Fic, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x4ashes4ashes/pseuds/shipcestuous
Summary: A long bus trip where everything goes wrong and then everything goes right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by It Happened One Night.
> 
> My Klaus/Violet commentary is now up! [here](https://shipcestuous2.wordpress.com/2019/07/21/a-comprehensive-examination-of-klaus-and-violet-baudelaire-in-three-parts-part-i/)

After pulling it out to read it again, Klaus was still holding the letter in his hand, he hadn't folded it and put it into his pocket. Violet watched, waiting. Still he held it in his fingers.

"You needn't worry, Baudelaires," Justice Strauss said, from her porch. "I am glad that I could do this for you." She turned her head and smiled at Beatrice and Sunny, who were standing just inside the front door, waving goodbye.

"_Bon voyage_," Sunny said.

"We love you!" Violet called back. “We'll miss you!”

They would have tarried longer, reluctantly goodbye-ing, but the bell of the trolley could be heard in the distance. She and Klaus quickly waved once more and then jogged towards the trolley stop, arriving just in time to climb aboard. The trolley conductor was the same man it had been for as long as they could remember, and Klaus and Violet both turned their faces away from him, hoping he wouldn't recognize them. Violet was nearly 21 now, but she didn't look so very different from her mugshot. Klaus, she thought, looked perhaps a little different. He still wore his glasses, of course, with the same frames; and parted his short, tidy hair the same way. He still liked sweater vests and blazers. But at 19 he was broader and taller – a good six inches taller than her now, in fact – and no longer carried himself with that awkwardness of the teen years. That homeless, orphaned uncertainty. That weary weight.

But he was a little awkward at that particular moment. They found seats next to each other in the back and he was pulling at his jacket and fidgeting with his glasses in agitation.

“Everything will be fine,” she told him, sensing his feelings and the reason for them. “We've never been apart from Sunny or Beatrice for this long, or been this far from them. But Sunny is seven now. Beatrice will be six soon. They're smart, brave girls, and they will be fine. Anxiety is perfectly normal at a separation like this. _It doesn't mean there's anything wrong_.”

“There's always something wrong, Violet,” Klaus replied, shaking his head. Being back in their hometown had stirred up his paranoia – and hers too. Over the past six years they had worried unnecessarily on many occasions, and passed the time more or less in peace. But as they looked out the back window of the trolley upon the tract of land where Count Olaf's house used to be, it was hard to remember anything except for the trauma of the months they spent running from him, and all the times he killed people they cared about, or tried to, or threatened to.

“Not this time,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. She wasn't sure she would ever sleep easy, or feel confident that nothing was wrong.

Over the past few years, the Baudelaires had checked in with Justice Strauss from time to time. What remained of VFD, even debilitated as it had been by the loss of so many great members, had taken care of The Man With A Beard But No Hair and The Woman With Hair But No Beard. It seemed most of the old enemies were finally out of the picture, but the mess they had left behind still remained. Not just the deaths, not just the charred ruins of headquarters and homes and hospitals, but a world that was not quite so quiet anymore. Klaus, Violet, and Sunny had led very unquiet lives even since Olaf's death, as they were still on the lam. They were wanted by the authorities for murder, arson, escaping prison, resisting arrest. A long list of terrible crimes.

But this was their chance to clear that up.

Violet was exhausted from being hunted. Six years they had been running and hiding and disguising themselves – from Olaf, from Esmé Squalor, from the police. They had lived, at times, in a distant city under assumed names. More than half of those six years had been spent intermittently on an island, a refuge from the world but lacking in many luxuries and resources for rearing a young child. The only quiet place, she had often thought of it, though it had not been quiet before they had it to themselves.

If they could get the charges dropped, if they could finally be free... Then Violet could finally access the Baudelaire family fortune. They could live anywhere, do anything. If they returned to the island, it would be on their own terms, and not because they were scared.

...If.

Klaus set down the suitcase they were sharing down in front of his feet, but the letter was still in his other hand.

_Dear Klaus,_ the letter said. _I hope this will find you, wherever you are. And I hope that you are well. I know when we parted that you were disappointed in me. I stand by the choice I made that day, but I am sorry that it had to be the way it was. There are many things that I wish had been different. I have many things I would like to say to you, and I hope I will have the chance to say them to you in person. I am writing because my brother Fernald would like to make amends. He is willing to go to the police and the High Court and testify that Olaf was responsible for the crimes that you Baudelaires have been charged with. He will likely have to go to jail as an accomplice, so I do not want him to take this step until I can confirm that you are still alive. There are many who were once in VFD who doubt that it is so. But my hope is alive, I know how strong and resourceful you Baudelaires are._

_Fernald has taken up marine biology once more, and we are living on the Florida gulf coast with our stepfather, studying the manatees. I have a mycology lab which I would love to show you. I've put our address on the back. Please come see us, so that we might talk this over. -Fiona Widdershins_

“It could be a trap,” was the first thing that Klaus had said, after Justice Strauss gave Klaus the letter that had found its way to her, and he and Violet read it together, shoulder-to-shoulder as he held it up with a slightly shaking hand.

“Why would Fiona try and trick us?”

“She joined Olaf's troupe. Her brother did many treacherous things. We don't know what they might do. Or it might not be from her – it could be from anyone.”

“It sounds like her.”

“Yes...” he had replied thoughtfully. “Or maybe it sounds _too much_ like her.”

“It's worth the risk,” Violet had decided, against her inclinations to stay as far away from Fiona Widdershins as possible. But what Fiona offered was worth too much to ignore.

But it _was_ risky. So they had decided to leave Sunny and Beatrice with Justice Strauss while they made the long journey to Florida to meet with – hopefully – the Widdershinses. Would the Hook-Handed Man really do what he had offered? Was a man who had done such wrongs capable of such self-sacrifice? Violet wanted to believe.

The trolley ride to the bus station wasn't very long. It took them past 667 Dark Avenue, and she and her brother exchanged a look thick with meaning. The city's landscape was littered with memories – happy childhood ones from when their parents were still alive, and ones of sickening terror that had followed immediately after their parents' deaths. Klaus' expression seemed to say, “I wonder if Jerome Squalor still lives there?”

“One risk at a time,” Violet answered aloud, with a weak smile. Esmé Squalor was one enemy whose whereabouts were unknown, and it wouldn't do to start kicking up dust at all the locations where an enemy might think to look for the Baudelaire siblings.

They had very little in the way of money, which is why they were forced to take the bus cross-country. Violet had found a manufacturing job that was willing to pay her under the table while the younger-looking Klaus had remained home with the two children. She made herself invaluable with her ability to fix and even improve the machines, but management had refused to pay her more than day labor wages. It didn't go very far supporting the four of them. Living under fake names, without a social security number, she hadn't been able to pay taxes. She really hoped they wouldn't get their murder charges dropped only to end up in jail for income tax evasion. That was one crime they were indeed very guilty of. It was hard to obey a system of law that you knew you couldn't trust to do right by you in return.

They had scraped by for two years in that way, traveling around to free clinics to make sure they were all in good health, clipping coupons, and staying in, except when they took Beatrice and Sunny to the park so that they would have the opportunity to socialize with other children. Perhaps it was selfish, but it was with some relief that Klaus and Violet decided to return to the island, where life had been...better. Wonderful, really. They passed another two years there, but felt it was best to return to the mainland for some time in order to check in with Justice Strauss, resupply, and get the children checked up. Both Beatrice and Sunny were old enough for school, so they were enrolled. Violet was eagerly rehired to her old job, and Klaus found temporary work doing cataloging at the nearby university.

This had only been meant to be a weekend away, to keep in touch with Justrice Strauss and put out some feelers for Beatrice's biological family. But the letter from Fiona changed everything.

“Perhaps we should have asked Justice Strauss to lend us some money,” Klaus said unsurely, gazing over the bus itinerary while they waited on a wooden bench near the loudspeaker. The route was far from direct, and made a number of stops in a number of states. It had been cheaper to zigzag their way there.

“Justice Strauss is already doing enough for us. And we don't know if we would ever be able to pay her back. This will be fine.” She smiled. “You did say you wanted to see more of the country.”

Klaus smiled back dryly. “This isn't what I had in mind.”

“Think of it like a vacation, Klaus! No, it's not the nicest vacation it might be. But we haven't been on a vacation since Mom and Dad took us to New York. That was before Sunny was born! I'm sure there will be lots of interesting things to see, even if we have to see them from the bus window.”

“Yes, you're right. And Florida is a nice destination.”

Although Violet couldn't think of anything special about Florida that she couldn't and wouldn't rather do on their island – swimming in the ocean, walking on the beach, warm nights and dinner under the stars. Was that what Klaus was thinking about?

Or was he thinking about Fiona?

He had finally put the letter away, into his inside jacket pocket. Violet knew her brother's thoughts well, but not on this topic. She didn't know how often he thought of Fiona, or how he felt about her now, or whether he dreaded or eagerly anticipated seeing her again.

She was troubled by her speculation but maybe she wouldn't rather know the truth.

A policeman appeared in the doorway and glanced around the bus station. Violet tugged her hat further down the side of her face and Klaus quickly removed his glasses. He couldn't see her very well, but Klaus stared at her all the same. “Perhaps we should have taken more precautions,” he murmured.

“They're not looking for us. Not after all this time.”

“Our faces used to be posted all over. They might still recognize us.”

“Without Sunny? I don't think they will. We're adults now, we've changed. And once we're out of the region, no one will know who we are, except perhaps by name.” Three orphans-turned-murderers on a crime spree _was_ national news.

A woman sitting across from them was reading that morning's edition of The Daily Punctilio, some exaggerated scandal on the cover - inaccurate, no doubt. The newspaper was something of a juggernaut but even the readership of The Daily Punctilio had its limits. They had made the cover a number of times, but once they got far enough, no one would have ever read a copy of The Daily Punctilio.

The seats on the bus were surprisingly comfortable, and it wasn't full. Violet encouraged Klaus to take the window seat and she sat next to him, their suitcase stowed and their shared day bag open on her lap as she pulled out things for them to do. She handed Klaus one of his books, and saw, to her displeasure, that it was about manatees.

“I've never seen a manatee before,” he said with perfect ease as he took it from her.

“I know that,” she said, letting out a little laugh. When would he have seen a manatee without her?

“I suppose you do,” he replied, smiling and leaning back in the seat.

Violet's most favorite of hobbies didn't lend itself well to bus travel, so she also read. But they both looked up from their books when they passed the sign marking the city's edge.

“Sunny...” Violet whispered sadly.

“Beatrice...” Klaus echoed.

It didn't feel quite right to leave them behind, but Violet also took comfort in the fact that they were safe with Justice Strauss. Justice Strauss was pretending that they were her nieces from Canada, and was even going to call them by different names. No one would recognize Sunny, and no one would even know who Beatrice was. They were safe.

///

The bus route took them through the hinterlands, and the landscape was dreary and boring and flat. It was still quite wintry, nothing was yet in bloom and what little vegetation there was to be found was dormant. Violet didn't like to admit that she was bored already, but the book she had brought about quantum mechanics was very difficult and better in small doses.

“Manatees weigh around 1000 pounds!” Klaus told her. “They're relatives of elephants, and the only vegetarian marine mammal.”

Violet smiled at him. She loved to see him excited about new facts, and she loved when he couldn't wait to share them with her. “Tell me more about manatees, Klaus,” she said softly, folding her book closed and leaning back into her seat, facing him.

///

There wasn't much opportunity for stretching their legs, as there always seemed to be someone walking down the aisle. They took the chance at the first stop to get off the bus and stroll around the station while there was an exchange of passengers. They called Justice Strauss, just to make sure everything was well.

“Nervous young parents checking in on the babysitter,” Justice Strauss teased.

Klaus and Violet were holding the payphone between them, their faces pressed side-by-side up against it. Klaus didn't laugh, so Violet gave an extra hearty chuckle, but it sounded awkward in her ears.

Justice Strauss put on Beatrice so that Violet and Klaus could speak with her, and then Sunny.

“Nothing suspicious,” Sunny told them. “All normal.”

“I know we'll be gone for a long time,” Klaus said, “but please do as we agreed, and don't leave the house. Not even just to go to the market.”

“We'll stay in,” Sunny promised. “I'm cooking rosemary-braised lamb shanks for dinner.” Sunny had become quite the expert at cooking lamb, as it was the only red meat available on the island. “With roasted Parmesan asparagus in a balsamic reduction.”

“I'm sorry we're missing it,” Violet said.

“That sounds delicious, Sunny,” Klaus echoed.

“There are lots of things to cook, and Justice Strauss promised to keep the fridge and cupboards stocked. We're reading in the library and gardening in the back and tomorrow I'm going to make peanut butter popcorn and we're going to watch _The Wizard of Oz_.”

Klaus and Violet smiled at each other. “That sounds great,” Violet said.

It was a short stop and they had to run to catch the bus before it left them behind. It stopped again for an hour that evening, around 9pm, in a small town on the furthermost edge of the hinterlands. It was so far, but the Mortmain Mountains were still visible as tiny peaks on the horizon, until the sun set. Klaus and Violet had a late dinner at the diner there, sharing chicken Alfredo. They were experts at splitting dishes – Violet ate the tomatoes on the dinner salad first, because Klaus did not like them in his salad. He dressed up their baked potato the way they both liked it and had a few bites. Then they traded, dishes sliding around with practiced efficiency.

“You have the last bite of chicken,” he said, pushing it towards her.  
  


“No, you should have it.”

“It's all right, I'm full.”

“I'm full too.”

Klaus gave her an affectionately frustrated look. “Eat it, Violet.”

She impaled it with her fork but lifted it up to his mouth instead of hers. He let out an amused sigh and then parted his lips and took the piece of chicken into his mouth.

“I really am full,” she assured him,” sliding the plate towards the table's edge to show the waitress that they were finished.

But the waitress was already on her way over. “That was great, thank you. I think we're ready for the check.”

“Can I interest you in any dessert? We make a scrumptious peppermint pie. We're famous for it. Best in the state.”

Klaus and Violet looked at each other and smiled. “No, thank you,” they both said.

“I'm sure it's delicious,” Violet said politely. “But I'm afraid we have a peppermint allergy.”

“Both of you?” the waitress asked, quite surprised. Klaus nodded. “Did you meet in a peppermint allergy support group?” she joked.

Violet realized the waitress must be thinking they were a couple. The allergy would have been a remarkable coincidence, if that were the case. Well, it wouldn't be the first time, or even the hundred-thousandth time that someone had made that mistake. Other parents at the park were always assuming they were married. Violet had always assumed that it was Beatrice that led to the misunderstanding, but Beatrice wasn't here.

Maybe it was the spoon-feeding.

“It runs in the family,” Klaus said, after clearing his throat.

“Ah,” she said, nodding with comprehension, after an initial surprise passed over her face. “Can I interest you in one of the other pies? The peanut butter is also excellent. As is the raspberry.”

“Thank you, but I think we'll need to be going.”

After their call to Justice Strauss' house that afternoon, they both felt a little bit better about having left Sunny and Beatrice behind. Violet's earlier adrenaline was gone, and she found herself feeling quite sleepy in the darkness of the bus as it resumed its journey. It was not equipped with overhead lights, and Klaus and Violet only had one battery-powered reading light between them, so Violet happily let Klaus take his turn with it first, and she snuggled in against her seat, with her jacket thrown over her like a blanket.

She was in a state of comfortable nearly-lucid half-sleep for what felt like about an hour, but then they hit a patch of rough road and she woke up. Her neck was stiff and she longed to stretch out more. Klaus gave her a sympathetic smile, understanding that neither one of them would sleep particularly well on the bus. But they had slept in worse places. They had slept with mortal terror over their heads.

There were a few scattered lights on the bus, some snoring, some quiet conversation. “Would you like a turn with the light?” Klaus asked her, noticing her looking around instead of trying to go back to sleep.

“No, you keep reading. I'm fine.” She did want to go back to sleep, but she wasn't sure she could. There was too much going on on the bus, too many bumps, too little space. And this was only the first night. She readjusted her jacket and shimmied her shoulders back into position, but continued to stare open-eyed at the back of the seat in front of her.

“How about I turn it off for a bit,” he offered, not waiting for an answer, already flipping it off.

Violet smiled at him with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Klaus.”

He lifted up the armrest between them so that she could lean against him and stretch her legs out a little further towards the aisle. (And so that it was no longer digging in her side.) This was considerably more comfortable, but not as comfortable as she knew she could be. After a few moments of stillness in the semi-darkness, she stretched out a little bit more towards him and laid her face against his chest. She lifted her head, once, to look at him, to make sure it was all right. He was perhaps a little surprised, but not bothered. So she laid her head back down near his heart, reassured and comforted by his steadiness and warmth.

The bus made an overnight stop around 2am. Violet was roused gently by a sense of the lack of the engine's hum. She could hear bustling and rolling luggage and was nearly blinded by the intense station lights. She had slipped down into Klaus' lap at some point during the night; he was dozing against the window, but starting to blink at the brightness like she had. They stared at each other for a second, then Violet sat upright in her seat very abruptly. “Thanks,” she said.

“No problem,” he replied, in the same staccato, uneasy tone.

They traded spots at the stop, after walking out their stiffness and using the restrooms. Violet sat next to the window and took charge of the reading light, and Klaus rolled up a sweater and stuffed it behind his head as a sort of pillow. He lowered the armrest again, using it as a sort of brace for one of his knees. He was almost as bent out of shape as the contortionist Colette that they once knew, but it seemed to work for him - he fell asleep rather quickly. Knowing Klaus, he had probably been reading almost the whole time, and had barely had a wink of sleep yet. His mouth quivered in his sleep, the way it always did. Violet wished Sunny was there, so that they could laugh about it.

After some time on the road again, Violet reached over to remove the letter from Klaus' pocket and read it again. Was it a romantic overture from Fiona, as Violet had first assumed? Or only friendship? Guilt? The question troubled Violet and she felt an itch to see the exact words again. But, in his sleep, Klaus felt her hand on the inside of his jacket, and instead of being alarmed, he placed his hand on hers, pressing it against his chest.

She could have removed her hand, gently slipped it away. But she didn't. It felt...nice.

It was very like the way their parents would sometimes sit, the sort of thing one might do with one's girlfriend. But Klaus had never had a girlfriend, not like that. There had been Isadora Quagmire, and Fiona, of course – brief flirtations. He had never mentioned meeting anyone at the university, but he surely must have, being surrounded by girls his own age. But nothing there had become anything, or at least it hadn't yet. It was the same for Violet...and perhaps all the sadder for her being two years older. Only it didn't really make her sad: her regrets were many, but they weren't about dating – or not dating, rather. They were about burning carnivals and hotels, a dead manager, a dead librarian, and a deadly mushroom. They were about decisions she had made as a mother, because one always tried one's best, but one never really knew. But they weren't about staying in with Klaus and Sunny and Beatrice on a Friday night. They weren't about not trying harder to find Quigley Quagmire, someone she hardly thought about anymore.

She must have fallen asleep again, for she opened her eyes and it was daytime. Klaus was still sleeping; their hands had fallen into his lap but were still touching. She pulled hers away quickly, feeling like the now-awake eyes of the others on the bus might see. It was nothing shameful or secret, but all the same, Violet didn't want them to see. There were a group of four friends split between the seats across the aisle from her and Klaus and Violet had often sensed them looking over - with curiosity, or perhaps only boredom. They seemed to be about the same age as Violet and Klaus were, around 20. Three young women and one of their boyfriends in tow. Violet didn't find herself particularly curious about their group, but all the same she and Klaus accepted when they were invited to eat breakfast with them.

There was fast food down the street from the bus station, and the Baudelaires knew their budget would thank them, though if there had been a grocery store close by, then probably would have gone even cheaper. The six of them pushed three small tables together and sat down, taking turns running off to the bathroom and actually enjoying standing in line because it meant they could stretch their legs.

“Is orange juice too indulgent?” Klaus whispered.

“Not if we share it,” Violet replied, thinking that orange juice sounded wonderful.

Their group of six discussed their destinations, which was one of the only things the Baudelaires could truthfully say about themselves. They were visiting an old friend in Florida and hoped to see some manatees, that was the story, and it wasn't inaccurate. The four friends were headed to New York, which meant they would be changing buses at the next stop.

“We thought you might be headed that way too,” one of them said. “You have a very Upper East Coast class.”

“Thanks,” Violet said. She wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded like a compliment.

They didn't ask a lot of questions, which Klaus and Violet were grateful for. After she and Klaus said they weren't in college, the others seemed to lose some interest, though they were still kind. They mostly enjoyed discussing what they were going to drink and where they were going to drink it, with casual mentions of their parents and happy-sounding lives at home. But apparently there was going to be a concert at one of the places where they might drink which inspired, to Klaus and Violet's relief, a brief digression about music. The Baudelaires were asked about what they liked to listen to, and Klaus answered “Soul.” Both he and Violet thensaid at the same time, “We've always liked James Brown.” They laughed uncomfortably and shared a slightly embarrassed smile between them. Then they looked around at the others.

“Jinx,” the boyfriend said.

“Aww, you're so cute,” one of the others commented. It didn't sound as patronizing as it might have, coming from her. But Violet was more worried about the implication than the potential insult - had their peers also assumed that Klaus and Violet were a couple? Somehow, in all of the Baudelaires' cautious answers, it hadn't come up yet that they were siblings. The nature of the comment left Violet in a difficult place as to how to delicately clarify the truth without sounding as if...well as if she was overly eager to think the others had the wrong idea about them, and overly eager to make sure she fixed it.

“Who's James Brown?” quietly commented one of the others, shocking and saddening Violet. In general they seemed to recognize the name, but didn't really know his music.

“He's the godfather of soul,” Klaus commented, obviously a little incredulous. He rattled off a few other facts and top hits in his encyclopedic way. They listened with nodding heads and “ah”s but weren't very interested in James Brown.

“I went through an oldies phase freshman year,” the girl next to Violet said, nodding at her as if this was something amusing they had in common.

Klaus set down the last few uneaten bites of breakfast sandwich, with some distaste.

“You don't look as if you enjoyed it,” the boyfriend laughed.

“It was all right,” Klaus said. “The eggs are a little...chewy.” He said very carefully, with subtle emphasis: “_Our sister_ is an excellent chef. We're used to eating quite well.”

Violet was grateful that Klaus had found a natural way to tell them. The others seemed a little surprised, realization dawning on their faces, but they didn't say anything about it, perhaps not wanting to admit that they had jumped to all the wrong conclusions.

A few other things were discussed – the discomforts of bus travel, what to see in New York, etc. Violet found herself wishing she and Klaus were alone instead, and questioning her every earlier thought about the adventure of making friends on the bus. A nice, quiet breakfast was Klaus is what she would have ultimately preferred. As soon as the last person had finished eating, Violet politely excused her and Klaus, saying they wanted to take a walk around the block before they were due back at the bus.

“That was stressful,” Klaus commented, as soon as they out of the restaurant. “How are you supposed to talk about your life when you can't mention you're wanted for murder and living on the run? It just feels like a lie. And we couldn't very easily explain Sunny and Beatrice.”

“None of our choices make sense, except in that context,” she admitted. “It makes it very difficult to know what to say.”

“You don't want to say too much, because you don't want to give yourself away, -”

“But you don't want to say too little, or else you're not being friendly,” Violet finished, nodding.

“I didn't want to bring up that we were orphans, because it felt like a sort of conversation-stopper. But it's a defining feature of our lives. If we weren't orphans, we would probably be in college, just like them.”

“I know. I didn't want to mention it either.”

“I would have loved to have told them all about the island. But...I also didn't want them to know about it.”

Violet looked over at him and studied his face. “You didn't?”

“I want it to be ours. Don't you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Of course, they didn't own it. And she didn't want to hoard it secretly in some selfish way – she wanted to do what was right. But if there were some way that it could be theirs – yes, that was what she wished for most. It was probably safest that it remained secret. They had planted their parents' hybrid horseradish-apples all over the island to counter the medusoid mycelium, but a single spore could be deadly and it was just too dangerous for someone who wasn't aware and didn't know how to fight its poison. When they returned to the island after two years away, it was clear that none of the islanders who had lived there in Ishmael's colony were coming back – or that anyone else was either, for that matter. Perhaps they and Ishmael were all dead, the Baudelaires didn't know for sure. They also didn't know how many people from VFD knew about the island, and how many of them were still alive. But it was not mentioned in An Incomplete History of Secret Organizations, and Justice Strauss had made a few inquiries with her contacts, and it did not seem that the island was well known at all. “It _is_ ours,” she said.

“Squatter's Rights.”

“What?”

Klaus laughed. “It's a law I encountered in Justice Strauss' library. We may have some legal avenue towards ownership of the island, since it has been completely abandoned and we have been living there.”

Violet sighed sadly. “Klaus, we have no legal avenues.”

“No. You're right, of course.” He quirked up his mouth in a sad smile.

They had rounded the block and could see their busmates loading back on.

“It was very nice of them to ask us to eat breakfast with them,” Violet said, stopping to watch instead of moving forward towards the bus.

“Yes, it was. All the same, I don't suppose I mind we'll be going different ways this afternoon.”

Violet smiled at him. “No.”

“It didn't seem like we had very much in common with them.”

“No, Klaus. I don't think we did have very much in common with them.”

“Sometimes I wonder if we might fit in better if we had been able to go to high school and college. And think of all we might have learned...”

Violet put a comforting hand on his arm. “What's that thing Ta-Nehisi Coates said?

Klaus smiled at her. “'The classroom was a jail of other people’s interests. The library was open, unending, free.'”


	2. Chapter 2

The composition of the bus underwent quite a change at the lunchtime stop. They said goodbye to their breakfast companions and a number of others who were heading northeast. The bus was relatively empty for the afternoon, but Violet chose to continue to sit next to Klaus rather than find a row of seats to herself. They played cards as well as they could without a table. Their parents had kept an encyclopedia of card games on the island – along with several decks of cards – and the Baudelaires had developed quite a fondness for playing. Klaus had smartly found and brought a different rule book, and they spent several hours trying out new games.

“If only Aunt Josephine could see me now,” Klaus said, shuffling the cards on the surface of a hard-cover book.

“We never did put the doll to good use, did we?”

“It would have been perfect for Beatrice. As the rattle would have been. We thought her gifts infantilized us; turns out they were perfect, they just came a few months too early.”

They had a good laugh about that, and then spared a moment of sorrowful contemplation for Josephine's grisly death at the hands of Count Olaf. That first year on the island, Violet used to walk out to his grave, just to make sure their old enemy truly was dead. One night, after a terrible nightmare, she actually considered digging him back up again to look at the body, so she could be _certain_. Somehow Klaus found her out there and wrapped an arm around her, they didn't even speak. Then he walked her back and they fell asleep in the bed together, his comforting arm still around her.

Violet thought the bus trip might take them by the other end of Lake Lachrymose, but it went a different route. The landscape had been very boring so far, and when they finally entered a forest, it was at night and nothing could be seen. They took a pass through the mountains, and without the streetlights, it was very dark. It was also very cold, which Klaus first commented on while leaning against the window, but which they all began to feel more and more as the night wore on.

“I'm going to ask him to turn up the heat,” said an older man sitting a couple of rows behind them. He rose from his seat and walked up to the front to speak with the bus driver, but he looked discontented as he made his way back down the aisle a few moments later. “The heating system broke,” he explained to the passengers in their section. “And the driver says he won't stop so we can pull out our luggage for extra layers.”

“The problem might be very simple,” Violet said quietly to Klaus. “If the engine wasn't producing heat, the bus would break down. So the issue may simply be with the fan. Or the heater core may be clogged.”

Klaus went with Violet to the front, where Violet offered her mechanical services to the driver. He seemed skeptical about her abilities, but even once they had finally convinced him that she knew what she was talking about, he still refused to pull over: “Miss, I would be fired for letting a random passenger tinker around with the engine.”

“If there's a coolant leak you maybe looking at a very serious issue.”

“If we don't get to Springfield on time, I'll lose my bonus, and I need it to pay my bills. So we're not stopping.”

Violet and Klaus shrugged at each other and returned to their seats. Klaus had a jacket and Violet had a sweater, so they were all right at first. But there was snow on the ground at the higher elevations in the mountains and it began to chill them to the bone. She scooted a little closer to Klaus, and then a little closer, and then a little bit closer, until their sides were flush against each other. Klaus folded up the armrest so that it was no longer between them, and hesitantly slid his arm behind her back. She was instantly warmer, and that feeling like her teeth were about to start chattering began to retreat.

They stayed like that for some time, but then it occurred to Klaus that they might be even warmer if they used his jacket like a blanket and consolidated their heat underneath it. He explained this to her matter-of-factly in terms of Arctic expeditions that he had read about, and Violet used her knowledge of physics to corroborate. “A sensible plan,” she agreed. Very _sensible_. Violet thought it sounded wonderfully warm – so warm, in fact, that she took pity on the older man who sat behind them and lent him her sweater for the night.

Scientific hypotheses were confirmed. Using Klaus' jacket like a blanket, and nestled up against each other, they were very nearly comfortable. He braved the cold to stick one hand out from under the jacket and hold up a book, and he read aloud to her about the Incas. He tilted the reading light towards her face and laughed.

“What?”

“Your nose is all red.” She touched it self-consciously. “No, i-it doesn't look bad.” She rubbed it a little but it wouldn't warm up.

Klaus gently moved her hand away and then plopped the book down on her face like a face-blanket. “Warmer?” he teased.

Her laughter was muffled by the book. “My nose is warmer, but I can't breathe,” she said, removing it.

“Are you still curious about the Incas?”

She shook her head. “I think I've had enough Incas for tonight.”

He agreed and shut the book, placing it back into their sack. She winced at the cold air that rushed in as he moved. “I think those nights we spent camping out in the Mortmain Mountains were warmer than this.”

“Well, we were better equipped, thanks to the Snow Scouts.”

“I didn't really pack for the mountains... I wouldn't mind a false spring right about now,” Violet joked.

“Just as long as Carmelita Spats isn't there, demanding to be crowned False Spring Queen.”

“Cold is definitely the lesser of two evils.”

“Every evil is the lesser evil compared to Carmelita Spats.”

They laughed about that as they snuggled back in together. Violet's head found its way to Klaus's shoulder, Klaus' arm found its way once more around her back, squeezing her. It was dark, quiet, and still on the bus. Peaceful, even. She could see the stars through the top of the window as she leaned against Klaus, just like that night they spent in Count Olaf's trunk. That had been a truly terrifying night, but she had plenty of fears even now. Violet could tell from her brother's breathing that he was still awake. “Klaus,” she whispered.

“What is it, Violet?” he asked, stirring his attention to her and concerned at her tone.

“What we will we do, if this doesn't work out?”

“Just keep doing what we've been doing, I suppose.”

“We can't go on like that. We've been living hand to mouth. What if Sunny needs an expensive surgery? What if we get caught by the police and need a lawyer? What if the rent goes up?”

“We'll figure it out, we're Baudelaires. We've made it this far.”

He couldn't see her weak smile. It was a reassuring thought, but not quite enough. “We've only been surviving. What kind of life is that for Beatrice and Sunny?”

“We deserve better too,” he said firmly. “But it has been more than just surviving, hasn't it? It has been happy...hasn't it, since Count Olaf died? Haven't you been happy?”

Violet raised her head to look him in the eyes. “Oh, yes!” she assured him. “When I've been home with all of you, I've been very happy.” She couldn't exactly say that she had been happy at _work_, but it could have been a lot worse. “I just worry about the future.”

“I know. But whatever the problem is, there's a solution. We might not like the solution, but we'll make it through. If Beatrice needs something, we can go to Frank Denouement or track down Lemony Snicket. Her uncles will want to help her. If Sunny needs an expensive surgery, then we'll turn ourselves in to the police. They have to give her the medical care she needs, it's the law. And you're over 18 now, which means we can empower someone at Mulctuary Money Management to pay a lawyer for us. The money isn't linked to our crimes, we'll be able to use it. Whatever it is, you'll tie your hair up, and I'll clean my glasses, and we'll figure it out.”

Violet felt tears stinging in her eyes. “Oh, Klaus! I don't know what I would have done without you. I couldn't have made it through without you! If I had lost you in the fire the way Duncan and Isadora thought they lost Quigley, I don't know where I would be. Probably married to Count Olaf, or in Peru with Stefano, or being raised by Captain Sham. I would have been lost.”

He brushed aside a few strands of her hair, and then wiped away the single tear that had fallen down her cheek with his thumb. “You would have figured it out.”

“I wouldn't have had the heart to figure it out,” she said softly. “I would have given up.”

“You don't give up. But I probably would have.”

Violet laid her head back down on his shoulder. “I don't like to think of it. Me and Sunny, having to do it all without you, or you and Sunny on your own. I wish I hadn't thought of it just now, I wish I could banish the thought from my head.”

He took her hand under the jacket-blanket and gave it a squeeze, and she worked their fingers until they were interwoven. Violet bit her lip. “I-” She stopped.

“What?”

“No, it's nothing.”

“You can tell me anything, Violet. You know that.”

“I don't want you to feel obligated.”

She felt him shrug. “Don't worry about that. I'm sure if it's what you want then it's what I want too. Unless it's tomatoes. It's not tomatoes, is it?”

“No, it's not tomatoes. What I was going to say is that...” She took a deep breath. “I want to go back to the island. If it doesn't work out with the Widdershinses, or maybe even if it does.”

“You do?”

“I've been thinking about it a lot. I think I could build a pulley, so that we could lift boats over the seawall. That way we could leave if we needed to. I didn't have the supplies before, but we could take them with us this time. But... I would understand if you don't want to now.”

“Why wouldn't I want to?”

Violet felt a surge of hope at his surprised tone. She reached for the letter in his jacket pocket and she took it out and waved it. “'_I have a mycology lab which I would love to show you_,'” she recited, in a slightly mocking, slightly suggestive tone.

Klaus laughed. “That doesn't sound anything like her. You didn't even do a British accent.”

“My British accent isn't very good.”

“Really? Mine's great.” Violet hadn't dared to look at him, but she raised her face to his at that and lifted her brow to show him that she wasn't interested in his deflections. He exhaled, amused, and then smiled at Violet. “You're really worried about _Fiona_?”

“Well, I know how interested you were in her “mycology” before.” Klaus cleared his throat. “In fact, it made you quite difficult.”

“Let's not dig all of that up again. I don't want to have an argument.”

“It wouldn't be much of argument, your position is indefensible. If you recall, I was right about everything.” It was the closest Violet had ever come to saying “I told you so”, and only her anger only those events would make her do such a thing.

Klaus took the letter from her and put it back into his pocket. “I'm only keeping it with me because I don't want to lose the address. Anything can happen to luggage on a long journey. As for Fiona, I was 13 when I had a crush on her, and we haven't seen her in six years. She just wants absolution for what she did, and I'm prepared to give it to her, I don't bear her any ill will anymore.”

“I can't say I'm too eager to see her again. Those days on the Queequeg were the most we've ever been at odds and it was all because of her.”

“That's not fair.”

“No, you're right. It was all because of you.”

This bantering remained good-natured, and Klaus uncoiled a half smile and didn't protest: “I actually _could_ defend myself, but I won't.” He studied her face with affection and some curiosity, saying carefully, “Fiona is not going to upset the horseradish-apple cart.”

“I won't make you promise.”

“I'm quite confident, Violet. I can't say I've really thought about Fiona much at all. She's not “the one who got away”, or anything like that. Whatever happens, I wouldn't leave you or Beatrice and Sunny. She would have to come with us.”

Violet smiled. “I couldn't have asked for a better brother than you. And even if they made them better, I would still want you.”

“You set the example, Violet,” he replied modestly. “You always have.”

She settled back in against him, after feeling the cold creeping down her neck. What had been a little awkward only an hour or so earlier now felt like the most natural thing in the world – his shoulder, his warmth. And the hope of the letter had always been tinged with concern about Fiona, but she felt light and airy now, free from it.

A few minutes passed in silence, as they both tried to discern dark shapes out the window and keep their arms under the cover of the jacket. Then Klaus shifted. “Violet?”

“Yes?”

“You've asked me about Fiona. What about Quigley?”

“Quigley?” she asked, surprised. For a second it was as if she had never heard the name before.

“What if we had a letter from _him_, or ran into him on the road somewhere?”

“Oh, I don't know,” she said, as non-committal in her tone as in her words. “I would like to see Quigley again. But... Well, it's not as if I've tried to look for him, is it? You know that, Klaus.”

“But if you saw him?”

“I don't spend my afternoons daydreaming of Quigley Quagmire. And I certainly wouldn't run off with him – even if I wanted to, which I find hard to imagine. It's like you said.”

“What did I say?”

“We've been happy...”

She heard him take a deep breath. It was a moment before he spoke again. “So we're on the same page, in terms of our ex-...ex-whatevers.”

“And there's no one else?” she couldn't resist asking. “No pretty student librarians?”

“No handsome machinists?”

“No,” they both answered at the same time, giving a little laugh.

“So, in conclusion...” she began.

“...We're lonely and pathetic,” Klaus finished.

Violet squeezed his arm. “No. Not lonely.”

///

Violet woke, disoriented, to darkness out the window, but loud, clamorous conversation. She heard the word “smoking” and forced herself to open her eyes wide and take in her surroundings. Some of the other passengers were standing and pointing towards the front. Hugging the seat in front of her, Violet pulled herself up enough to look across, and saw that there was a cloud of white smoke billowing just outside the windshield.

Klaus had begun to stir, but was still frowning in confusion. “The coolant, just like I said,” Violet sighed, shaking her head. “The head gasket, maybe?”

“Folks, sit down, I'm going to pull over,” announced the driver. Violet had already dropped back into her seat and did not see what happened, all she felt was a sudden curve, which threw Klaus at her, and then a terrible thud. The sound and the sensation of the impact were horrifying, but aside from her upper back slamming into the outside armrest, she wasn't hurt. Klaus was pretty much on top of her, and had caught the edge seat in front of her with his hand to prevent himself from being tossed all the way into the aisle. The bus was leaning to the side, and the positioning felt almost natural, not topsy-turvy.

“We're alive.”

“But are we OK?” she asked, looking him over to make sure he hadn't been injured.

“I'm OK, and I'm awake now,” he joked.

She smiled at his joke, and it seemed to her that they stared at each other for quite a long while before she remembered to be worried about whether or not they had crashed into another vehicle. “I hope no one is hurt.”

“I thought the problem was the engine,” Klaus said. “Why did we crash? And what's that sound, is it raining?”

“I think it's a river.”

It was both.

They soon discovered that the bus had hit a tree – rather a large one – on their side of the road. The driver explained that the smoke had made it difficult to see and he had swerved at the last moment to avoid an elk or deer. The bus was tilted dramatically to the side and they all hiked with some difficulty to the front of the bus. The door was compromised by the crash, and so they had to climb one-by-one out of the emergency exit window and slide down. Some of the passengers needed quite a lot of help, and so this took a good chunk of time. The rain picked up from a mist into steadier drops and unhappy passengers concentrated themselves under the thickest part of the forest canopy across the road.

“Can you fix it?” Klaus asked, raising his voice over the sound of river and the patter of the rain on the metal. He had taken a flare from the driver and was holding it up in front of the engine panel. In his other hand he had the reading light, which was not really up to the task.

“With a manual, the right tools, and enough time – yes,” Violet answered him. “But I don't think we have what we need.” The panel was bent, it would take special equipment just to get it open. She could hardly see anything in the darkness, and her fingers were becoming stiff with cold. She shook her head at her brother.

Once the driver had laid out the other flares, he came over to the huddled, shivering mass. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for this inconvenience. I've driven this route many times and there is a little bed & breakfast up the road – I think that's our best chance. I haven't seen many cars on this road tonight, I doubt we fill find any help that way. That plan seems untenable.” He turned to Klaus and Violet, who were standing next to him. “Untenable means-”

“We know what untenable means,” Klaus said. “And, unfortunately, we agree.”

“The company will send another bus in the morning,” the driver finished. “I think the walk is about five miles. It could have been much worse.”

There was grumbling, but everyone agreed to walk to the B&B. Klaus and Violet helped the driver over on the river-side of the bus to pull out the luggage – only to find the compartment had come open in the crash and no small amount of bags and suitcases had rolled down the hill and into the water – _and_ been carried away by the current. Klaus and Violet's suitcase among them.

“We really are dreadfully unlucky,” Klaus said, staring blankly at the carnage of shirts and socks on the river bank from several trunks that had come open.

“It's OK, it was only clothes,” Violet comforted, but she was now soaking wet and could think of nothing more valuable than a fresh change of clothes.

The older man who was borrowing Violet's sweater, Craig, was so wonderfully grateful about it that she could never have asked for it back, as much as she now needed it. He was a little slower than the others, and Klaus and Violet fell behind the crowd to walk with him, and to help him find some walking sticks. It did eventually stop raining, but it was so cold that there was no hope of drying. Five miles felt like an eternity in wet clothes, though the exertion did help them warm up a little. They talked with Craig to pass the time, and learned that he was visiting his daughter and her family very close to Springfield.

“You very nearly made it,” Violet laughed.

“I know the bed & breakfast that the driver mentioned. I've passed by it many times. A very cute little place on the water. I'm sure the bus company will be paying for everything.”

The owner of the Bienvenue Riverside Bed & Breakfast was about ready to climb back into bed when the three of them finally arrived. It was a small operation and there was only one room left. Craig insisted that they take it, saying that at his age he only slept a few hours at a time anyway, and that he could do that just as well in one of the chairs in the common room. When they still protested, he reminded them that he was only a few hours away from his destination, whereas they still had over a day of travel left. They finally agreed, and took their key up to their room.

“One bed,” Violet observed, as they opened the door. A familiar predicament.

“It's too bad the bus didn't break down near a big fancy hotel,” Klaus said. “We could have each had our own room, and there might have been a pool.” Violet had no desire to see a fancy hotel again, it only reminded her of the Hotel Denouement, where a number of terrible things had occurred, definitely not least of which was when they had accidentally killed Beatrice's father.

Violet was surprised to hear Klaus mention having his own room. She supposed, if the bus line was paying, it would only be natural to take advantage. But it had been so long since their spaces had been private and separate like that... On the island, they often fell asleep in the big chairs, and took turns with the single bed left behind by their parents so that it didn't particularly belong to either one of them. In the city, they couldn't afford a very large apartment. Klaus usually slept on the sofa, but they shared the master bedroom closet. It was _their_ room.

Violet didn't particularly want her own room, though she wasn't sure how they would deal with the situation of the bed.

“Go take a hot shower,” Klaus commanded her. “You're shaking.” They had taken turns wearing his jacket during the walk, but it had made little difference. She didn't argue with him, but showered quickly, so that he wouldn't have to wait very long. The water never got to be quite as hot as she wanted, probably because every passenger from the bus had just taken a shower too.

“You should hang up your clothes by the vent, like I did,” Klaus said, seeing her clothes in a pile in the corner of the bathroom as the two of them traded places. They were both wrapped up in towels. They had checked for bathrobes or pajamas in the room, but to no avail. Klaus' towel was around his waist – she hardly ever saw him walking around shirtless. He looked a lot different, even from the last time they had gone swimming together on the island. She noticed, and felt like she was _looking_. As for her, the towel she had wrapped around herself barely covered her butt and it made her very uncomfortable. Klaus was rather obvious in avoiding looking at her legs, but then he seemed to be avoiding looking at her top too, so that eventually he was just looking away entirely, like he had a neck injury.

“I thought we should wash them, if we have to wear them for the rest of the trip,” she explained.

“It would be nice if they were clean, but I don't think they'll dry in time. It's already 2 AM.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right. Maybe I'll just wash the underwear.” He stood by while she collected her clothes from the bathroom, trying not to bend over. She draped up her dress and sweater and leggings on the lamp and chair by the heating vent. “Would you like me to wash yours?” she asked a little timidly.

“Hmm?” He was already in the shower, but had thoughtfully left the door to the bathroom open for her to use the sink.

“Your underwear. I could wash it too.” The idea was a little awkward. They shared all the house chores, typically alternating most of them. But they always did their own laundry.

“Oh.” He was quiet for a second. “No, I'll take care of it. Come on in now and do yours in the sink. Then you should climb into bed and get some sleep.”

“Klaus-”

“It's OK. I sleep in a chair half the time anyway, and that one by the window looks really comfortable.”

“But I get the bed at home.”

“I have a bed.”

“It's a fold out. It's not the same.”

“I'm telling you, Violet: it's fine.”

She made an unhappy noise of concession as she entered the bathroom. He let out a squeak when she turned on the sink, and she laughed. “Sorry!”

“It's all right, it's back to normal now.”

“You aren't going to sing?” she teased, after a couple minutes of quiet.

“Do I sing in the shower?”

“Yes, all the time,” she answered him.

“You do too.”

“Guilty,” she admitted, laughing. “♫ _He flies through the air with the greatest of ease_ ♫”

“♫ _The daring young man on the flying trapeze_ ♫” Klaus finished, a little shyly, and they both laughed.

There was a second vent in the bathroom, and the first one was getting a little crowded, so she hung up her bra and panties as close to it as she could and went back into the bedroom. There were extra blankets in the large wardrobe, she checked to see that she and Klaus each had the same amount, and she made up the chair for him as best as she could. She was too tired to care about her hair, she left it wrapped up in a second towel and climbed under the covers. The bed seemed criminally large, just for her.

Sleep found her fast, but she woke up maybe an hour later flooded with cold dread, her heart racing and her stomach pitted with fear. Just a nightmare. She sat up and caught her breath, and noticed Klaus was awake and watching her. The clouds had passed on and bright moonlight was pouring in through the window above the cute cafe curtains, hitting him right in the face.

“All you all right?” he whispered.

“Just a bad dream.” She had them, on occasion. She considered them to be slightly more intense and slightly more common than what troubled the average person, but they weren't an impediment to her daily life.

She took a drink from the cup of water she had left on the nightstand, and then she and Klaus stared at each other in moonlight from across the room.

“Klaus, get into the bed,” she ordered quietly.

He didn't hesitate to obey, nodding, and bringing one of his blankets with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter!
> 
> It's from Klaus' perspective.

The bus driver had told them to be ready and downstairs at nine, but he came around at eight, knocking on their doors and telling them that the new bus wouldn't arrive until lunch time. The delay was frustrating – if this endeavor with the Widdershinses didn't pan out, both he and Violet had jobs they needed to get back to as soon as they could. But he didn't mind having the morning to relax around the inn.

Klaus had slept hard despite the short hours and it took him a moment to remember the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a nice little room, cutesy in a 1950s sort of way, and white and red to the extreme. The closet had been converted into the little bathroom, and a large wardrobe had been installed instead. No expense had been spared on the bedding – the pillows and sheets were of the highest quality. Klaus was wondering why he was so comfortable – but that wasn't the only reason, he had also come free from his towel in the night, so he was naked and enjoying it - until he realized. Then he was acutely _uncomfortable_. His hair had dried in the night and he had finally shed last night's chill, though the room itself couldn't have been heated to more than 67. The bed was plenty warmer than that, almost too warm, with all the blankets they had piled on. There was quite a lot of trapped heat under those covers. Klaus' eyes finally made it over to Violet, who seemed to have gone right back to sleep after the driver's interruption. It was inevitable, he supposed, but her towel had also come undone in the night, at least on top. She was lying on her back and facing away from him, but one of her breasts was exposed above the edge of the covers. Like him, she must have been hot.

Klaus quickly turned his gaze away and resisted a keen temptation to look back. He thought she had caught him staring at her legs the night before and this would be so much worse, and so much more of a violation. He pulled the comforter up higher over both of them but didn't feel relieved because he still knew they were both nearly naked underneath.

They had bathed together as children, even until Violet was 8 or 9. But he couldn't pretend this was as innocent as that had been. It didn't feel innocent at all – it felt dirty and wrong. But it also felt warm and right.

Their upper bodies were barely touching, but their legs were entwined, like a pinkie swear at the knees. He should have removed himself as soon as he figured that out, but he didn't: they didn't need to be up until lunchtime, and he was in no hurry to move. He looked over at the back of Violet's head; her hair towel had come loose and dark, damp hair had spilled out. From this view, it could have been anyone. He could have imagined anyone lying there – Isadora Quagmire, or Fiona, or Cassie who worked at the cafe in the university library and always gave him free coffee. But he didn't want to imagine anyone else, he wanted it to be Violet.

She had really spoiled him for other women. Who could hold a candle to Violet?

He did eventually feel restless, and he disentangled himself from Violet and rose, after redoing his towel. He collected his clothes, which were mostly dry, and carried them into the bathroom to dress. The letter from Fiona had gotten soaked in their trek to the B&B but the writing hadn't smeared, the address was still legible. This letter was a dream come true...they might actually be able to begin new lives, free. Free and rich. After all the hiding and running and scraping by...

He just hoped it wasn't contingent on a romance with Fiona. He didn't think she would do that, and he had brought photos of Sunny to show the Hook-Handed Man, to remind him of how fond he had once been of her. But the letter did make him wonder whether Fiona wanted to rekindle their brief flirtation. The truth was, he hadn't given Fiona Widdershins more than a passing thought since they had taken in Beatrice. He had responsibilities, he had a life with Violet and two children. Fiona and Violet both seemed to think there was unfinished business, but Klaus had always considered it a closed chapter.

She wanted to go back to the island...

They had returned once, driven by desperation. Violet had been working 11 hour days to support the four of them, Klaus was exhausted from raising a toddler on his own, they could barely make rent. Beatrice wasn't in school yet so it had made sense. But it would be different now. They were both legal adults, Beatrice would be of an age to be in elementary school. Both he and Violet had made casual comments about how much easier and happier life had been on the island. But this was the first time a more permanent settlement had ever been considered...

In a way, he supposed, the island had always felt like giving up. They had left the island because they didn't want to feel like they were hiding from the world, like they were locking Beatrice up in a tower to a protect her from a world that had plenty of good to offer too, not just danger.

But if they _chose_ it, if it was what they _wanted_...

Between Sunny's culinary abilities and Violet's inventing ones, as long as he had enough books he didn't really feel like he would be leaving much behind. Everything that really mattered would coming to the island with him. If it was what they wanted... Why shouldn't they?

Violet only had two pieces of underwear hanging in the bathroom but it felt like it was everywhere. His elbow knocked down her bra as he was lifting up the toilet seat, requiring him to touch it to put it back in place. It was dry, but he hung it back up anyway, because he didn't want to admit that he had held it, even though his reason for doing so was perfectly natural, perfectly innocent. And why wouldn't it be? She would have no reason to think otherwise, unless she really did see him checking out her legs.

Klaus groaned and palmed his forehead.

“Klaus, are you all right?” Violet asked with concern through the door. So she was awake.

“Fine,” he answered with unnatural haste.

It had just sort of happened. Here there were, right in front of his eyes, a very nice pair of bare legs, so naturally he noticed them. They were objectively nice legs and he objectively noticed them.

Klaus sighed and took one last gander at the bra after he finished adjusting his jacket. He couldn't seem to get away from all the signs of Violet as a woman. This was by any standard a small room, but it felt downright claustrophobic. Why did it feel tighter, more crowded, without Sunny and Beatrice here? It was almost...oppressive.

The bra made him very uncomfortable. It wasn't so much the piece of fabric right in front of him, it was that he knew Violet wasn't wearing it.

When he left the bathroom, Violet was sitting in the easy chair, holding the curtain aside so that she could peer out. “A room with a view,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps after breakfast we could walk along the river for a bit. And we might find our suitcase. Otherwise, we'll have to go shopping in Springfield.”

“'Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes',” he quoted.

Violet laughed, she recognized the quote from _A Room With A View_, as he had known she would. There had been a copy of the novel in their parents' library on the island and they had each read it twice over the course of the time they had spent there. The copy had been marked up by their mother, with notes in the margins and underlined passages. She had liked that one in particular.

Violet gave him a shy look as she rose, checking to make sure the towel was still in place where it was supposed to be, both where the curve of her breasts began and down below where the curve of her butt ended. She must surely have been thinking of how it had come undone in sleep, and how he had woken first.

“I'll meet you downstairs,” he said, quickly striding for the door.

///

The common room was lively with the conversation of the other guests, most of whom had risen at the driver's knock. The innkeeper was a little overwhelmed but she had enough continental breakfast for everyone. Klaus and Violet enjoyed a cup of tea on a bench in front of the river, watching birds and even two deer who peeked their head out of the forest on the other bank, then took their danishes with them to see if they could hunt down their suitcase along the river. And they were successful, as it had got caught in a logjam about halfway between the bus and the B&B. There were five other soggy items of luggage there, which Klaus and Violet carried back with them as well, with great difficulty.

The B&B didn't offer lunch, but the owner did the best she could. It seemed to consist mostly of whatever had been in her fridge and cupboards. Sandwiches until the bread ran out, canned soup, crackers and chips, a couple of apples split18 ways.

“I almost wish we had to stay another night,” Violet sighed wistfully.

“This part of it – this morning, anyway – really did feel like a vacation, just like you said.”

The bus that came for them was in fact a rented school bus, an old one, much to the riders' displeasure. But the heater worked. The seats were rather small for two adults to share; Violet took the window and Klaus sat down next to her, then he laughed a little awkwardly at the crampedness and hopped across the aisle.

The ride to Springfield was the most boring and uncomfortable leg of the trip to date, and Springfield itself had very little to offer. They thought it was a large town by the amount of bustle at the bus station, but once they stepped away they saw it had little more than a main street and a few neighborhoods. They had already called Justice Strauss' house that morning at the B&B to talk to Sunny and Beatrice, and it was too early for dinner, so after a short stroll they found themselves hanging around the bus station, and it was a good thing too. The bus driver called them all over and explained that due to the delay there were now two busloads worth of people expecting to be leaving at the next departure and there weren't enough seats for everyone. A new bus had arrived – an actual intercity bus and not a school bus – but it was smaller, and even a regular-sized one would be full-up.

“I'm tired of this,” Klaus complained to Violet. “We would have already made it to Florida yesterday in a car driving the most direct route, but we've still got 6_00 miles_ to go.”

“I know. But what choice did we have?”

“We have a choice now,” he said. The bus line was offering refunds on tickets and vouchers for free trips for anyone willing to wait two days for the next bus or go off in a different direction.

“We can't afford any more delay,” Violet argued. “We still have jobs to get back to. It was hard enough getting any time off at all. And we need the income.”

“I say we throw in the towel with buses altogether. It's not the only way to travel.”

“We don't have nearly enough for plane tickets and there are no railways around here.”

“That's not what I mean. I say we hitchhike.”

“What?” Violet gaped at him. “_Hitchhike_?”

“It's the south, isn't everyone supposed to be friendly?”

“When has everyone ever been friendly?” she reminded him.

///

30 minutes later found them walking down the highway, the suitcase in Klaus' hand and the sack over Violet's shoulder. He held a sign that read “Crystal City, Florida”, but it was hanging low at his side because there was no one driving by. “I once read a book of essays from a writer who spent several years traveling around the country by hitching,” he explained, beginning to feel self-conscious about his suggestion as they stared ahead at the vast, empty stretch of road. “Most of his experiences were good ones.”

“It will be nice to save some money,” she admitted. “As much as I would like to think we won't need to be so careful anymore.” She gave him a hopeful smile.

They walked probably for another hour, several cars having passed by but not stopped. “I didn't realize this was such a backroad,” Klaus said. It was forested and apparently not well-trafficked. “I thought it was the main highway out of Springfield.”

“It very well might be,” she laughed.

“I suppose you're right.”

She said consolingly, “It's a nice place to walk.”

The next time they heard a vehicle in the distance, Violet handed the backpack over to Klaus and scrambled to fluff out her hair, remove her sweater, and hike up her skirt. Klaus watched, dumbfounded, while she snatched the sign from him and then posed at the white line like a showroom model, plastering a charming smile over her face. “What's this?” he asked.

“The limb is mightier than the thumb,” she said, extending her leg out a little more. Did he detect a subtle hint about his indiscretion the night before, openly staring at her legs? He certainly felt the burn of her mocking how silly he must have looked holding his thumb out as car after car drove right by him. She had so much grace, he felt awkward and clumsy next to her. But she would never mean to make him feel that way.

Sure enough, the limb _was_ mightier than the thumb. It was a large freight truck and it stopped for them. The driver was a middle-aged man, friendly-looking and happy to invite them into the cab with him, where it was a tight squeeze but certainly preferable to walking the whole way. He was headed near Tallahassee, which was very good news for the Baudelaires and would take them within three hours of their destination.

He was as friendly as his looks had suggested, and they told him the story they had prepared about visiting old friends. As it grew later he grew quieter, which suited Klaus and Violet well. They snoozed a little against each other, waking when the driver stopped for gas.

“It's kind of beautiful, in a way,” Klaus said, looking around at the lights and the other roadtrippers. “Picturesque Americana.” They had the cab to themselves.

Violet turned her head to look out the other window, to take in the full panorama, and he caught a whiff of the scent of her hair. They had used the same complimentary shampoo at the B&B, so why did she smell so good? She always smelled good, even on the island. Even on the submarine. Even in jail. Even as a freak in a carnival, and he had had plenty of opportunities to smell her while they were pretending to be conjoined.

“I wish I could see what you see,” she said with a laugh, raising a skeptical brow at the gas pumps and concrete. “Though I don't know how you can see anything at all.” She reached over and removed his glasses from his face, blowing on them slowly and wiping them clean with her shirt. He stared at her, surprised by the intimate gesture. He only saw a blur, but even as a blur she was beautiful. He would know her even if he were completely blind.

“Do I look better without my glasses? Maybe with our fortune I could buy some contacts. Or some new frames? As much as I dread going to an optometrist.”

“I think you look good with your glasses on. And with your glasses off,” she added softly. She placed them back on, setting them with great care on his nose and ears. “I hope you can think bigger than contacts!”

“Tickets to the opera?”

“Bigger!”

“The latest Encyclopedia Britannica?”

“Bigger!”

“A trip to France?”

Violet laughed. “That's it!”

He smiled, but then sobered. “We shouldn't get our hopes up.”

“They're already up.”

“I know,” he sighed.

They had the truck driver drop them as close to the bus station as his route would take him in the town slightly southwest of Tallahassee that was his destination. They bid him thanks and farewell and then began walking. It was 12:17am.

The bus station was closed and the schedule didn't show any direct lines to Crystal City until midday. But it was only a three hour ride.

“Are we hitching again?” Violet asked. “I suppose it worked out pretty well the first time.”

“No one will be keen to pick us up in the middle of the night.”

Violet pulled the ribbon out of her pocket and tied up her hair. Then she unfolded the map of Florida the truck driver had generously given to them and bent it towards the light. “210? No. It looks like the 241 is the most direct route. Anyone going to Crystal City will be on that highway.”

“Lets walk that way heading out of town and then find some field where we can sleep for the night. We'll try hitching in the morning. If we don't have any luck after a couple of hours, we can make our way back here to the bus station. We'll have plenty of time to make the Crystal City bus.”

“Agreed,” Violet said, pulling out the ribbon with a single tug on one of the ends. As if in slow motion, the ribbon came loose and Klaus watched as her beautiful hair cascaded down her shoulders in glimmering, graceful splashes. “What?” she asked innocently, tucking her ribbon back away.

“Nothing.”

They purchased a few items out of the vending machines to be their breakfast and then walked for about an hour and a half until they were well outside of town. It was a pleasant enough night for February – slightly cloudy weather and temperatures in the 50s. The countryside suited their needs very well – it happened to be a particularly hilly area, providing some privacy. They bounded down the hill away from the highway for a few minutes and found a pond with a little dock, a grove of trees, stacks of hay bales, and plenty of overgrown grass.

“I feel like a shifty vagabond,” Violet said unsurely as she watched Klaus drape their still-wet clothes from their river-soaked suitcase around on the hay bales.

“You are a shifty vagabond,” Klaus teased, throwing a bit of hay at her. “It's alright, Violet. No one will ever even know we were here. And I'm sure if we explained out situation, whoever owns this land wouldn't really mind if we spent a few hours out here sleeping. I read a book about the Great Depression, and it wasn't uncommon for people to have to do this. It's not as if we've broken into someone's home.”

“I suppose you're right.”

Together he and Violet were able to move some of the bales around to create more of a shelter. They created three walls around what would be their bed. The grass was thick, long, and soft. They laid out some of the clothes that were dry to create a little more cushion, and some buffer against the bugs, and saved the rest to go on top of them while they were sleeping. It was chilly for a night outside but nothing dangerous.

The closest thing to real food in the vending machine was a bag of mixed dry fruit. They sat on the dock by the pond and shared it, soaking their feet in the water, which was much warmer than the air, though it still took some getting used to. But after all their walking, it felt quite nice.

He wasn't tempted to get all the way in – it was too cold for that. But he began to imagine what it would be like if the water were much the warmer, like it would be at the end of summer. They would want to swim. Their other clothes were so wet already, they would have to swim naked, or almost naked. That would be...

They hadn't swam naked on the island. They had found some old swimsuits that had washed up and altered them to fit. A few times Klaus had gone out onto the beach at night and just stripped down. He felt like he was always looking over his shoulder, wondering if Violet might come along by chance. She never had. Had she done the same thing?

They dried their feet in the grass and then quickly put their socks back on. There was a little else to do, and they wanted to be awake before the unsuspecting farmer came along. They took turns walking a little distance behind a tree to relieve themselves, then laid down side by side between the bales of hay. He had known what he was doing when he made it small. He had told himself it would be warmer that way – and it was. But he was feeling guilty now, as she oriented herself half on top of him because there was hardly room for anything else.

But then she said, “This is actually pretty comfortable.”

“For a field,” he joked. It wouldn't be the worst place they had slept.

He took some of the dry clothes and tucked them around her so that she would be warmer. He steadily avoided her eyes, but then their eyes met and he knew the staring went on for too long.

“A little fire would be nice,” Violet said wistfully, after he laid back down at her side.

“Just like camping in the backyard.”

“Who would have thought then we would one day be squatting in the middle of the night in some random field on the side of the highway in central Florida?”

“There were a lot of things we never could have predicted.” He said it with some humor, but they couldn't quite laugh about it. “We probably could have a little fire, if you wanted. There were branches on the ground, over by the trees.”

“No, I didn't mean for real. Just something to imagine.” She sounded a little sad. “The smoke might be seen.”

“We've had to imagine so many things. Maybe when something is possible, when it's right there in front of us, we should allow ourselves to have it. Despite a little risk.”

She breathed deeply, almost as if she had caught the double meaning he hadn't intended. “All right.” He rose. “But we don't have any matches,” she pointed out.

“We do have a reading light, some lenses, and the scientific principle of divergence and refraction,” he reminded her.

The fire was some 25 minutes worth of labor – the unseasoned branches were in no hurry to burn. And it provided only a minimal amount of warmth, enough to toast their feet. But it did glow nicely, and crackle nicely, and help them to feel like they were on vacation, and not squatting in the middle of the night in a random field on the side of the highway in central Florida. The wind was with them, blowing the smoke the opposite direction of their makeshift bed and dispersing it.

Still, they were nervous about it. They heard some rustling in the grass, and whether it was a farmer or a policeman or an alligator, they were uneasy enough that they jumped to their feet so that they could see over the hay. But it was just a family of raccoons in the distance, and they scurried off at the sight of two humans.

Klaus sighed with relief, and then turned his head and noticed that Violet was right there, her body and her face so close. She seemed to have the same reaction, he sensed the way she went stiff just as he had done at the realization of such proximity. Between the starlight and the firelight he could make out her pretty face, and the wind gently tossing her pretty hair.

He wanted to explain why he hadn't moved yet, but he couldn't think of a reason. “I-” Instead, he pulled a few strands of straw out of her hair.

She gave a little laugh after no more words came out, and looked away shyly, but it was an unnatural angle for her to be facing anything other than him and her eyes came back to him. It was instinct that drove him to it – he was almost choking on the tension between them. He grabbed her. Grabbed her upper arm with one hand to hold her in place and his other disappeared somewhere behind her hair, on her neck or the back of her head to guide her lips towards his. He stopped himself in time, but no matter how unthinkable it was, there was nothing ambiguous about what he had been about to do. A child Beatrice's age would have been able to recognize what he had been about to do.

He dropped his hands quickly and tucked them against his sides as if he might be able to press them into his body, his bold, rebellious hands.

“Klaus,” she said, softly but above a whisper, inviting, desperate. Then he felt _her_ bold hands on his face, pulling him down towards her and finishing the kiss he had started. They pulled apart and kissed again several times, each time their arms winding more around each other until they were hugging just as much as they were kissing, and had messier hair than during their time with the carnival.

Kissing her was...kissing her was everything. His impressive vocabulary failed him.

They sat - him quickly, her slowly and delicately.

“It feels different when Sunny isn't here,” he finally said, still a little breathless. His hand was on his forehead in a sudden fit of anxiety. He tried to pull on the ends of his jacket, a nervous habit, only to find he had lost it sometime during the kiss, just like she had lost her sweater.

“Maybe not so different...” she suggested. “Maybe just more obvious.”

“I think I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

“I think I have too,” she replied.

Tentatively, he reached over and pushed the loose collar of her dress and bra strap aside to bare her shoulder, which he kissed. She shuddered. “I've never been touched like that,” she said quietly.

“I know. I haven't either.”

“I'm glad you were the first one to do it. I'm glad it was you. It's only right.” But this statement only made them think that it wasn't right at all. “What have you read about incest?” she asked after a long silence, leaving her shoulder erotically exposed and staring at him with wide eyes and heaving breast. It was a rhetorical question, she already knew that whatever he had read, it wasn't good. A fearful question that she didn't want answered but had to ask.

“I don't care what the books say,” he answered her, aggressively declarative.

Her lips parted in surprise, to hear such a statement from him. “That is shocking, Klaus Baudelaire,” she said, just a hint of teasing in her tone and the corners of her mouth. But she was pleased, _very_ pleased. “After all, don't the books say, “When I think of what life is, and how seldom love is answered by love-”

He finished: “...'It is one of the moments for which the world was made'.” _A Room With A View_. “'Love is answered by love'?” he ventured, quirking up an eyebrow.

She nodded, the full weight of the admission in it. “Isn't it?” she asked.

“It is. Add it to the list of crimes,” he joked bleakly, leaning back against the hay.

“At least it would be our choice. Not just another tumble down the mountain we've been pushed off of.”

“Off of which we've been pushed,” Klaus corrected, grinning at her. Josephine might have only been their guardian for a few days but her grammar lessons had rubbed off permanently.

“Forget the money for a moment. What do you want, Klaus? Out of life. To do right by Sunny and Beatrice, of course. But what else? What do you _want_?”

“I want you.” How easy it was to say it now. How impossible it would have been 20 minutes earlier. “Forever.”

She inhaled sharply at the confession, though not from surprise. It was something else – pleasure. He scooted closer to her and unzipped her dress in the back. It fell open and he took in the sight of her in before kissing her neck.

“We can't,” she shivered.

“I know.” But he didn't stop. His kisses reached higher, behind her ear.

She laughed and then pushed him away. “We can't afford a third child.”

It was a sobering thought. He helped her put her dress and sweater back on, it was far too cold to lie together undressed, as nice as it would have been. They snuggled up together once more under the clothes they were using as covers, after Klaus tossed a few more twigs onto their little campfire.

“What if Sunny doesn't approve?” Violet finally said, speaking aloud the thought they both dreaded. They wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from Sunny – maybe she knew already, even before they had – and even if they could, they wouldn't want to.

“We'll make her understand. If we explain...”

“That's no guarantee.”

“After what we've been through, Sunny isn't going to hold this against us. Maybe it will be difficult for her, but we'll make it easy on her as we can.” He felt Violet nod and agree. Klaus paused and took a deep breath. “We can't marry. At this point I'm an expert on nuptial law.”

“No. But Klaus, we're already married in every way that counts. Don't you agree?”

“Not _every_ way,” he replied suggestively. He sensed her vibrating with excitement, as ready to explore what they had been missing out on as he was.

Feeling free to touch her the way he wanted to for the first time, he caressed her hair comfortingly, supportively. She reached out and took his hand. “I wish...I wish I would have realized sooner. All this time we might have... I should have realized sooner.” She was running her finger around his palm.

He kissed the top of her head. “Me too. I know it, now. In my-in my _veins_. I know it like I know the feel of my glasses or my hair. I _know_ it.”

She squeezed his hand tighter. “I'm scared.”

“Do the scary thing first,” he quoted to her. “Get scared later.”

///

They slept late, so that it was almost hot in the high sun. They laughed shyly as they pulled apart and looked at each other.

“I didn't dream all that, did I?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly and smiled. “No.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I doubt that.”

“You do.” Mindful of how long it had been since he had brushed his teeth, Klaus leaned towards her and kissed her gently. She received him perhaps a little more timidly than the night before, but readily enough, and more deeply as the kiss went on.

“I suppose that'll be the last time, until we're home again.”

“Maybe so,” he admitted.

“Another secret. Another thing to hide.”

“We're experts,” he said encouragingly. This garnered a reluctant smile from her.

They packed up their little camp, such as it was, and put the scene back to rights. As they trekked back up to the highway to find a ride, they didn't know what waited for them with the Widdershinses, but they knew what they had with each other. It was the kind of love for which the world was made.


End file.
